Azura trudged down the hallway like a zombie who had just been told there were no brains left in the buffet. Her conversation with Elder Luna had been short, explosive, and terrifying—basically a three-course meal of emotional devastation with a side of near-death experience.
She let out a long, dramatic sigh that echoed through the corridor.
"Note to self: never, under any circumstances, argue with an angry mother about her dead son. Unless you have a death wish. Which I apparently do."
She patted her chest, grateful that her organs were still inside her body and not scattered across Elder Luna's living room floor.
"Now, focus on Selena. Damage control. Friendship rebuilding."
She finally reached the kitchen, pushing open the door with the hope of finding a certain silver-haired girl chopping vegetables or stirring a pot with her signature timid grace.
